


Mornings Are For Feeling

by TheLordOfLaMancha



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enj POV, Feelings, Fire Escape Scene from Paint With Me, M/M, Suddenly falling in love, character introspection, general obliviousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha
Summary: Enjolras had never been particularly good with feelings. Emotions that didn’t have meaning, that weren’t presently useful, had always seemed like distractions. Something to puzzle over coffee and then gently put aside. Tasks that always seems to stick around on the bottom of to-do lists. He was stubbornly practical, and his friends had more than once told him it made him seem cold. Of course, few of them had seen him work through the complexity of all he felt before they had even risen for the day, with perhaps Courfeyrac and Combeferre being the only exceptions. But Grantaire had interrupted his early morning reverie and forced Enjolras into an early start to the day. It was time to get a grip on himself.Or, Enjolras' POV from the Fire Escape Scene inPaint With Me.





	Mornings Are For Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adorablecrab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorablecrab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Paint With Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8383255) by [TheLordOfLaMancha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha). 



> You could probably read this on it's own, but the conversation might seem a little out of context. If you've read _Paint With Me_ , then it will seem very, _very_ familiar.
> 
> This is a birthday present for the wonderful adorablecrab, who drew this scene from Paint With Me for my birthday, and deserved something equally incredible in return.
> 
> So have Enjolras' perspective in the Fire Escape Scene (TM).

Enjolras rose before the dawn, as he often did on mornings like this. He was a light sleeper, always had been, and even the soft rustling of his friends shifting in their sleep was enough to wake him early. _You sleep so lightly, your thoughts could wake you,_ Combeferre had said once.

He was still tired after last night's revelry and the itch for coffee was starting to settle under his skin. But if he brewed a pot now, the smell would most certainly rouse Courfeyrac, or Combeferre. And what with last night's shenanigans, Enjolras figured they deserved as much sleep as they could get where they had fallen tangled together on the couch the night before. Enjolras smiled fondly as he glanced at them cuddled messily on the couch, and his heart warmed.

And his gaze, as it so often did these days when his heart was warm, slid over to Grantaire, curled up under the table. Grantaire, who had given up his bed to Éponine, and was passed out on the floor next to Bahorel. Grantaire, who was now tugging gently on Bahorel’s arm, trying to pull the larger man on top of him like a blanket. The sight was absurd, and Enjolras laughed quietly to himself.

Enjolras _liked_ mornings like these. The world was soft and still around the edges, life was slumbered. Things were steady, and Enjolras had dominion over the calm, his rested mind sharp and clear. In mornings like these, lulled into a false sense of security by the quiet, Enjolras dared himself to actually _feel_. In the quiet, his feelings raged louder than his thoughts.

He watched his friends gathered around him, their faces peaceful in rest, until his eyes settled on Grantaire again. He looked serene in sleep, the burdens Enjolras was certain he carried with him in his waking hours not weighing him down. A trill fluttered through Enjolras’ middle and he was suddenly… nervous? No, that wasn’t quite right. A feeling pressed at the edges of his mind but he couldn’t place it. He needed to think.

He tossed his long legs over the arm of the couch and slipped past his friends to the window. Shouldering it open as quietly as he could, he took one last look over his shoulder at Grantaire, who was starting to stir awake. He climbed out onto the fire escape.

This window faced east, and Enjolras could just make out the first telltale signs of the dawn sweeping away the night. The black skies softened into blues, and Enjolras softened with them, curling up with a sigh on the metal steps. The air was cold on his face, but it woke him and brought him clarity.

As the first fingers of the sun lit the streets below, the ashen wreck of the apartment building across, still corded off with caution tape, stood out in stark contrast. As he cast his gaze down, Enjolras leaned his head against the cool iron of the railing. A thick fog was settling into the streets as the night air condensed. This tragedy had happened so close to his friends. Scarcely a few meters of asphalt and concrete had separated his friends from disaster. Things could change in the space of a breath. Blink too slow and you’d miss the sunrise.

God, if anything had happened to his friends.

“Thought you might be cold.”

Enjolras jumped slightly and snapped his attention to where Grantaire was sitting on the ledge, offering Enjolras his jacket. With a sigh, Enjolras took the offered jacket and draped it over himself like a blanket. He watched as Grantaire pulled on his own sweater.

_God, if anything happened to Grantaire_ , his mind unhelpfully supplied. He curled his arms a little tighter around his chest.

The harsh light of dawn flattered the angles of Grantaire’s face and Enjolras found himself oddly captivated. The sun made him seem warmer somehow, easier than the Grantaire who lurked in dark corners with a bottle and a witty remark. This Grantaire had not yet lost all of the softness he had at rest, and looked positively at ease where he draped in the window frame. Grantaire’s eyes were gentle when they met his own, and Enjolras shuddered out a breath that condensed into a fog between them.

Grantaire was soft and Grantaire was sure, and Enjolras felt the same fondness he felt for quiet mornings slip into his bones as he just looked at Grantaire through the haze of their breathing.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Grantaire whispered, and he looked positively reverent. Enjolras nearly sighed, “ _Yes”_ , before he caught himself.

What was he thinking? He was letting his feelings run away with his brain was what he was doing.

Enjolras had never been particularly good with feelings. Emotions that didn’t have meaning, that weren’t presently _useful,_ had always seemed like distractions. Something to puzzle over coffee and then gently put aside. Tasks that always seems to stick around on the bottom of to-do lists. He was stubbornly practical, and his friends had more than once told him it made him seem cold. Of course, few of them had seen him work through the complexity of all he felt before they had even risen for the day, with perhaps Courfeyrac and Combeferre being the only exceptions. But Grantaire had interrupted his early morning reverie and forced Enjolras into an early start to the day. It was time to get a grip on himself.

“Marred slightly by the horrendous view across the street,” he muttered just to say _something_ , and turned away.

He wasn’t looking, he steadfastly was _refusing_ to look back, but he could almost viscerally feel the characteristic smirk sneak onto Grantaire’s face.

“How’s the class action coming?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras felt his heart sink. Right. The class action. He almost missed how Grantaire sounded honest and genuine.

With a sigh, Enjolras sank lower beneath his jacket.

He knew Grantaire was looking for a fight, something to light the spark in him that had dampened to coals overnight. And he knew he should put on a brave face to meet Grantaire’s challenge. But he also knew he wouldn’t be up to it until the sun had properly risen for the day.

Mornings like these were for feeling, he reminded himself. Fuck it.

“Hopeless,” he mumbled into the collar of his jacket, and his eyes shot over to Grantaire’s face to see his reaction.

“What?” Grantaire asked, a little incredulous, but worry clear in the way he tensed his shoulders. Enjolras turned back to looking at the street below.

“The judge is unfavourable, which already acts against us,” Enjolras explained. “And while the Fire Marshall has evidence towards landlord malpractice, none of the tenants seem willing to step forward and refute the bylaw protecting the scumbag.”

“So that’s it then?” Grantaire asked, bitterness and sarcasm incarnate. “Just like that, your little cause is over.”

Something clicked. A switch flipped inside Enjolras’ mind and he frowned. A bit of fury swept up into his words as the first real sunlight struck the fire escape.

“Of course not,” Enjolras bit back, glaring daggers at Grantaire, who just sat patiently and looked out at the morning with the same reverence as before. “We will just have to campaign harder. Perhaps plan a protest on their behalf. That will at least shake things up a little.”

Grantaire snorted softly and shook his head. But when he looked up again, there was a gentle smile on his face. “Naturally.”

Enjolras’ heart did a little flip. That seemed a cliché and foolish way to describe it, but it was what it was. He tangled his fingers together in his lap to resist the desire to reach out and touch Grantaire’s face, cast as it was in the morning light. Enjolras wanted to feel that it was soft, that it had give, that this was real. The moment felt frozen in the space between their breaths, but this quiet, this stillness… it was simply being alive.

Enjolras drew in a shaky breath, and closed his eyes for a moment, trying desperately to regain his composure. It was time to end this. The sun had more or less risen, and it was time to start facing the day. Perhaps what he needed was a fight to bring himself back in check.

“Why do you care, anyways?” he grumbled before he knew what he was saying. “You don’t really believe in this cause.”

But Grantaire’s relaxed demeanour didn’t waver. He simply said, “You’re right, I don’t.”

Enjolras waited. He waited and waited, the anticipation growing thick in the pit of his stomach. Grantaire must have _something_ else to add, surely. Enjolras was on edge, a match waiting to be struck.

“Class-actions have an extremely low success rate, and the victims of this fire could really use other kinds of help besides this.”

A grimace split across Enjolras’ features as his posture snapped to attention. The match sparked and burned.

Most people unfamiliar with Enjolras’ quick rage tended to quell under the gaze Enjolras was now drilling into Grantaire. But instead, Grantaire just looked fond. Awed, even.

It made Enjolras want to grab him by the front of his sweater and shake some sense into him.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that this is the higher cause!” Enjolras said, hands still knotted in his lap, even if he unconsciously leaned towards Grantaire like a sunflower tracking the day. “If this succeeds, they will get the money they need to get their lives back in order.”

“If,” Grantaire countered instantly, leaning forward as well. The pauses Grantaire was leaving between his thoughts, slow as the morning, were driving Enjolras absolutely mad.

He wanted to pace, he wanted to shout, he wanted to _kiss that damn smug look right off of Grantaire’s beautiful face_.

Oh.

Oh no.

Enjolras reeled. He barely heard Grantaire’s comment about affordable housing.

But Grantaire was looking expectant now, waiting for Enjolras’ response, and Enjolras gaped, desperate. His mind was scattered all over the place, the clarity of the morning completely disrupted as his mind began connecting the hundreds of different things he’d ever felt for Grantaire. He begged himself to focus.

“But they should seize the opportunity this presents them for real change,” Enjolras tried, pitifully. Grantaire just softly shook his head, and it took all of Enjolras’ will to stay focussed on what Grantaire said next with the way his curls shook.

“They need to think about their long term survival plan. Their families and friends,” Grantaire was saying, his voice raw with genuine concern. “They need enough money for food, a roof over their heads… they’ve just lost that. Bylaws are the last thing on their minds.”

As the sun broke the tops of the buildings, the magic broke and washed the fire escape and Grantaire in a harsh, flat light. But Enjolras was still staring.

Realization wrapped warmly around Enjolras like the heat of the sun on the back of his neck. And in that moment, Enjolras knew he needed Grantaire. Not _wanted_ , but _needed_ , a terrible, visceral need. He needed Grantaire like he needed to breathe, or eat, or drink.

In that moment, everything changed. Everything was different now. There was no going back. And it _terrified_ Enjolras. He couldn’t control this, honest and instinctual as it was. And he tended to act rashly when he wasn’t in control. Grantaire didn’t deserve that.

He coughed to clear his throat, but he was almost certain his voice still broke when he said: “You never cease to surprise me, Grantaire.”

Grantaire was looking back at him contentedly, maybe a little smug, and Enjolras breathed out his nerves. Maybe not _everything_ changed. He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts.

“You must be learning a lot at your job at PBS,” Enjolras added to keep the conversation going. “Do you work on one of those educational shows?”

Grantaire looked mildly surprised for a moment before a familiar grin overtook his face. “You could say that,” he replied.

Enjolras tipped his head back against the brick wall of the building and closed his eyes, content to be back in the familiar. “Are you ever going to tell us what you do? Or what show you work on?” he whined.

“It’s really not important,” Grantaire muttered. “Hardly anyone watches it.”

It was Enjolras’ chance to return a smug look. “Isn’t that kind of a misuse of public funds then?”

“Oh don’t start,” Grantaire groaned.

Maybe it was just the glee of making a good joke, or the frustrated but happy look on Grantaire’s face, but the feeling from before came rushing back to Enjolras. He was just completely _gone,_ warmed from his face to the tips of his toes despite the ebbing chill. He looked away so Grantaire couldn’t see what was one hundred percent, definitely, certainly, a blush as red as his jacket. He curled his legs in tighter reflexively, as though that would hold in the feeling that filled him so completely he was worried it might escape.

He mentally shuffled his schedule for the day and rearranged the priorities of his to-do list. Enjolras needed coffee if he was going to get through this. And Combeferre.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope this was just as enjoyable as Paint With Me, if different.
> 
> Go love adorablecrab's incredible [drawing here.](http://deboracabral.tumblr.com/post/173374190243/its-amandas-birthday-fishandchipsandvinegar)
> 
> Also, thank you to sunfreckle for helping me make this 100x better. What would I do without you? <3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at the username [fishandchipsandvinegar.](http://fishandchipsandvinegar.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Mornings Are For Feelings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14919977) by [Sunfreckle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle)




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